


Time for the timeless

by sanserifnotes (tuesdayafternoon)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Angst, Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Merthur - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 06:06:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3599190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdayafternoon/pseuds/sanserifnotes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time should mean little to the timeless, to the machines who neither age nor change.  The way it passes, or the way it doesn’t, one hour, or ten years – it should mean nothing. </p><p>But, somehow, it still means everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time for the timeless

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Dead Island trailer - the music and cinematography is beautiful! Definitely worth a watch!

Time should mean little to the timeless, to the machines who neither age nor change.  The way it passes, or the way it doesn’t, one hour, or ten years – it should mean nothing.

But, somehow, it still means everything.

 _I wish I could turn back time,_ thought Merlin.

It would go like this:

He’d sit up, his eyes sliding over the screws and fuses, the mess of dirty white liquid, and the shattered fragments of porcelain that covered the floor, and he’d listen for the hum of the machine as it pulsed like waves lapping against the side of a lifeboat. His eyes would trail up from the floor, following the metal panels and the intricate network of buttons and dials until he reached the blue-lit display that stuttered and blinked at him: ‘Completion time: unknown’. He’d linger there a minute, gaining hope by the second that one of those flickers would bring about a change in the display.

At his most hopeful, Merlin’d stare into the machine, into the huge, hollow metal tube and to the figure who lay inside, motionless, hand hanging limply over the side; as Merlin'd watch, the hand would slip back up onto the stretcher once more and rest there. Merlin would climb off his workbench and slowly retrace his steps back to the machine, flicking the main switch back to the _off_ position and waiting for the stretcher to emerge. Here, the very moment he was able, he’d take those fingers up in between his own and hold them tight, the flesh cool against his warm living-plastic skin. He’d swallow the whisper that formed on his lips.

_Arthur._

Merlin would gently tuck one arm under Arthur’s knees, and the other around his shoulders. He’d hurry across the room and lay Arthur back down in the dark-red pool on the floor, the one becoming warmer and warmer by the minute against all that Merlin tried to undo. Arthur’s eyes would lose their emptiness and focus again, and Merlin would unpromise that _Avalon will fix this, you’ll see, I’ll make this right,_ and Arthur would take back his pained smile. He’d recoil his hand on Merlin’s neck, take back his whisper of _just hold me, Merlin. Please. Please._

The red would seep out of Merlin’s jacket, which was pressed firmly to Arthur’s heart, and the brown would return to it, just like the sense of hope that Merlin reabsorbed. He would unsay, _Avalon_ will _repair your systems, Arthur, and it’ll mend the places where this red fluid leaks_. _Avalon’s saved me many times before, don’t you remember? Even when I was in pieces, it saved me. Avalon will make this right, I promise._

Arthur wouldn’t groan in pain, and he’d not cough as he said, _Avalon doesn’t work the same for me as it does for you. You can’t save me, Merlin; Avalon can’t save me._

Merlin wouldn’t sound completely too hopeful, too matter-of-fact as he shrugged on his jacket and said, _I have to get you to Avalon_.

Merlin would jump to his feet and cross the room in four paces, inhaling Arthur’s name. One of the dark-clad men would levitate off the floor and place his throat in Merlin’s hand, and Merlin would squeeze until the colour returned to the man’s face and air surged through his lungs once more; he’d release the man and let him run off, a stained knife in his fist. Only then would Merlin lunge for the other man, closing lithium-powered fingers around his neck and setting it to rights with a vicious _snap_ , causing the man’s mirrored sunglasses to put themselves back together and leap from the floor to the man’s face, and the electrical device meant to short circuit Merlin’s systems to jump back into his hand. The man would take back violent stabs of the device with purposeful movements, and Merlin would help him. The plastic chest of draws on the floor would be knocked up onto the bench and swallow a flurry of screws and fuses and coils of solder. Arthur’s ‘Kiss the humanoid animatronics mechanic’ mug, which Merlin had bought him for his activation day (with the money that Arthur gave him to buy him a present, because apparently humans celebrated the day they started functioning), would reform from tiny shards and slide back onto the bench along with the cool dregs of white tea within it. The man with sunglasses would turn back his sneer and not say _courtesy of Morgana, you sad imitation of one of us._

Milk would gush back into its bottle; the lid would skitter back across the floor and refix itself to the top; Merlin would unfeel the numbing shock that made his fingers lose their grip as he stood in the doorway. He would unhear Arthur crying out in pain and someone shouting _where’s the android?_ , and Merlin would forget what it was to have something wonderful, and to see it shatter in an instant. He’d close and lock the door.

If he could turn back time, he’d never try to name the funny buzzing that he could feel in his cogs and gears as he made the trip to and from Tesco’s. Maybe then he’d never realise he’d not known what comfort was before, and how he’d not known discomfort either. He’d unthink his musings about how once he had not known hope, and how he had not known its absence. He’d not appreciate the afternoon sun as he stepped back inside again.

Merlin would look at Arthur sleeping on the small couch and remove the blanket that covered him, and Arthur would start to shiver as Merlin folded it neatly. Merlin would collect the kiss he had placed on Arthur’s forehead and erase the note he scribbled explaining that he had gone to the shops and would be home in just a few minutes.

And then Merlin would start again. He’d do things differently; things would be better.

For machines like Merlin, time should not matter. The time he spent with Arthur, the time Avalon would take to heal him – they would be a blink of an eye in Merlin’s mechanical life. They should mean nothing. The sun glanced over its shoulder before sinking behind the horizon and leaving the workshop in darkness, except for a three-word, blue-lit display.

 _I wish I could turn back time_ , Merlin thought, and powered down.


End file.
